A Private Pastime
by SonriaCat
Summary: During a rare night off amidst the war, Katrina takes time for an activity few even know she does. Written for the Cornwell Fanworks Challenge 2018.


_Star Trek_ and _Star Trek: Discovery_ are the registered trademarks and copyrighted property of CBS Corporation and CBS Television Studios. This fiction item is intended for entertainment purposes only. No compensation has been received or will be accepted for it, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended or should be implied.

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 **A Private Pastime**

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 _Right foot next to the pole. Right hand wrapped around it, positioned about at the height of your head._

 _Oh, and stop telling yourself this is ridiculous._

Except that it was, wasn't it? She'd been warned not to overdo things, that her recovery was still in its final stages. It was important not to push herself too far. Renee Drake hadn't been able to quite conceal the smirk as she'd reminded her of those orders, but fortunately she had held back any editorial comments.

Renee, of course, was one of the few people who'd seen this particular piece of furniture in her apartment for what it really was.

 _Outside leg straight, and swing all the way around. Bend your knee slightly to keep it graceful._

Katrina had been taught physical grace from a young age, along with both dignity and deportment. Her mother had started her in gymnastics when she was four, and she herself had asked to move on to dancing at eight. It had been her first teacher's idea to combine the two, and she'd shifted over to acrobatic dance as her main discipline just after she'd turned eleven.

Her parents had allowed it, once they'd been reassured it was socially acceptable. This, though…

She let herself laugh a little. Her family didn't even know about it. They thought the pole in her apartment was just a rather eclectically-styled base for a plant stand.

That wasn't exactly wrong; she did use it that way most of the time. Her parents had just conveniently never noticed the wing nuts that meant the plants' platforms could be easily removed. Nor had they noticed the proximity of a sliding door, which made it simple to clear the area around the pole whenever she wanted.

If she'd noticed her brother giving the pole a second look out of the corner of her eye, she told herself, it was just because he was an engineer; he noticed the way things were built. It hadn't really meant anything.

 _Left foot ends up just behind the right, and transfer your weight back. Now wrap the inside of your right knee around the pole and slide your hand down. Arch backward, as far as you can without hurting yourself._

 _Try not to think too hard about whether your leg is strong enough for the next move._

Finding a place to practice acro as an adult hadn't proved as easy as she'd thought it might be. When she'd wandered into Maxine's studio that afternoon, shortly after starting Command school, she'd initially thought to turn around and immediately walk out. Katrina had been seeking a physical activity that would maintain her flexibility and strength, and had remembered that acro was all that and more; the mental effort would also be a good distraction.

Maxine herself had stopped her at the door. "Wait. I've seen that look before. But let me show you something before you make up your mind."

The instructor hadn't changed out of the simple black leotard she'd worn before beginning a routine designed to showcase several of the more advanced tricks. Somewhere between the Iron-X and the Rainbow Marchenko, Katrina had understood: pole dance might have sleazy connotations, but as a physical discipline it had everything she was looking for. She'd started classes the next day.

 _Kick your left leg up and do an ankle wrap. Release both hands and arch until they're on the floor. Hold it for a three-count._

Gabriel, with his tinkering habits, had figured out that the plant stands came off the pole the very first time he'd visited her at this apartment. She'd come out the morning after their first night to discover half the platforms on the floor, the sliding door pushed partway to the side, and a curious look on his face. "What's this? A support pylon of some type? I know this is a historic building, but surely there are better ways to shore it up than this."

She'd laughed, removed the rest of the platforms and pushed the door all the way to the side before wiping the pole down. When she followed up by spinning up into an inverted split, she'd heard his indrawn breath and seen his jaw drop. Katrina had gone around the pole once before dropping down into a cartwheel dismount, and had come up a few feet from the pole to see a look of amazement on his face.

"That," he'd breathed, "is the sexiest thing I've _ever_ seen."

He'd had her clothes off before she'd even made it halfway across the room.

 _Release the pole and kick back into a walkover. Pivot around the waist, making sure you don't accidentally hit the pole as you come up._

It'd been her idea to begin combining acro moves with the tricks and routines she'd learned at Maxine's. She'd perfected this move, the first acro dismount she'd begun to use, in the gym on the _Landsdowne_. That's how then-Captain Drake had found out about this pastime; she'd unexpectedly come in during one of Katrina's late-night practice sessions with the pole she generally kept broken down in her quarters.

"So that's what it's for," Drake had observed. "I'd wondered. Not exactly the most common workout method to choose, Commander."

Katrina had wiped her face. "Which is why I don't advertise it."

"Pity. It's something you should be proud of. There's no way you can do something like _that_ without staying in tip-top physical condition." The captain had walked around the pole, inspecting it. "So, is it more like gymnastics or dancing?"

"Both, actually," she'd answered, and then a sudden impulse had struck her. "Would you like me to show you?"

They'd been friendly already, but it was the late-night pole dance sessions that had solidified their relationship into a friendship. A few months later, Renee had introduced Katrina to her own semi-secret hobby by taking her down to a lounge underneath the outpost on Capella IV, where she'd taken over the piano and spent three hours playing and singing jazz standards from a wide variety of worlds.

"It wouldn't do," she'd explained later, "for people to call me 'The Crooning Captain.'"

"Or for me to be 'The Dancing Doctor,'" Katrina had quipped back, and Renee's laugh had been free and easy.

 _Point your toes now, and let yourself slide down slowly into a split. Ignore the fact that the muscles in your legs are protesting; it'll turn to actual pain if you take it too far. This is just getting yourself back into shape._

 _Now lean forward to touch your forehead to your leg. Arms graceful, and lower back —_

Suddenly erupting from tension into pain. Katrina stopped the routine, gasping, pushing herself back up into a more comfortable position. She kept her toes pointed as she scissored her legs around until both were in front of her, and then used an arm to brace herself as she arched her back again. The waves of pain subsided almost immediately, although the muscles continued to quiver for a long moment before the spasm completely subsided.

That was her limit, then. At least she knew where it was now. She'd made it a lot farther than she thought she would.

Sighing, she eased herself up off the floor and padded toward the kitchen, stopping partway there to brace herself against the wall for some simple stretches to cool down. She'd limited herself to these while she had been held captive on the Klingon ship, not wanting to give away the true extent of her physical abilities.

Then, of course, she'd ended up pushing herself too far anyway. She hadn't even been able to pick herself up off the floor in the _Discovery_ 's transporter room after they'd beamed her out. It had taken five days to stabilize her enough to even perform the surgery, and five weeks to learn how to walk on her own again.

In the five months since, she'd wondered whether it would even be worth it to try a full routine again. The ongoing war meant there wasn't enough time for anything anymore, and asking for a single evening to herself had almost made her feel guilty.

Drake, though, had folded her arms. "Go. This isn't an indulgence, Katrina. We all need to clear our heads sometimes. Just be sure you don't overdo things. We need you back in the morning."

She drew a glass of water from the tap and closed her eyes, relishing the feel of the cool liquid as it slid down her throat. And then Katrina Cornwell turned back to her living room, already envisioning the next pole dance routine she wanted to complete tonight.


End file.
